Sunsets In Paradise
by NRC
Summary: NOTE: ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS FIC ARE OCs. Casuistry* forum characters. If you don't go there, chances are you won't get this fic.


**NOTE: This story is completely of OCs, so basically, you probably won't get it. They are RP characters on a forum named CASUISTRY* run by Hanna (Mesteria) and only the main two characters are mine. Brianna McLaggen has the face claim of Teresa Palmer, while Kaycee O'Malley has Nicholas Hoult as his face claim. Other characters do not belong to me (Rose Weasley belongs to Cassie and has the face claim of Karen Gillan, Alysha Zabini whose face is Jasmine Saunders and played by Sophie, Aggy Bass has the playby of Blake Lively and is played by Bree, and the other Gryffindor boy is Seth Wishart, played by Gina with the face of Xavier Samuel). **

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She looked up from her mild contemplation of the people in the room to track a vampire's progress. He was headed towards her, staggering, the bottle dangling from his hand dancing with the beat of his stumbles. He was already drunk, but that was alright by her, because she was well on the way, too. His brown hair was a little ruffled, and he had a spot of lipstick smudged near his lips – she idly wondered whose lipstick that was. Of course, he had brought a date, but she knew as well as he did that that didn't particularly mean he had been out snogging his plus one.

She ignored him as he finally gave up on his pilgrimage to wherever he was headed, instead crashing out in a heap of clothes and curses beside her. She turned her eyes back to the crowd, lifting her own bottle to her lips, ignoring her new companion.

Kaycee O'Malley was not someone she usually had conversations with, besides that one time, but then that conversation had been mostly groans and moans and silent whispers. She didn't pay much attention to him both before and after their one night stand, and both of them had preferred it that way. He was in the year above her, helping only in notches in bedposts – much like she'd done with him, really. They were only ever good at sex and lies, parties and drinking.

He was a slutty little man-whore, falling in love and having his heart shattered into smithereens by one girl, after having a little collection of one-night stands and flirts. He had succumbed to having feelings for someone, and he'd had his heart broken for all his troubles. Much like she was, really, although she hadn't cared a shit about him during that time. She used to be like him, though: wild, party-girl, up for anything, slept with anything. Then in one afternoon in the midst of a thunderstorm in a foreign beach, she'd met one boy named—

She pushed that thought forcefully out of her mind, pulling the bottle up viciously and her lips down in a grimace. She was saved thinking more when she heard her companion's voice.

"How have _youuu_ been, McLaggen?" he slurred, his eyes blearily fixed on her as he lay down on the floor beside her. His elbow was resting on the floor, his legs stretched out and his entire lower body lounging contentedly, not caring for anyone who might step on him. His body was turned towards her, the other elbow resting on his midriff as its hand clutched at his precious bottle. "Haven't seen _you _around."

She made a little huffing sound, ignoring his question in favour of taking another drink. She gulped and then licked her lips, and she ignored how his eyes flew down to her mouth as her tongue peeked out. "I've been just dandy, O'Malley," she replied. Usually, she'd have commented on something about her words rhyming and being a lyrical genius, but she was no longer a funny drunk these days.

"Oh hey, that rhymes!" O'Malley helpfully put in. "You're a lyrical genius. I know another word that rhymes with that: randy. Are you randy, McLaggen?" He waggled his eyebrows at her, but she just rolled her eyes at him and turned her face away. He got the hint and he discarded it. "Are you randy, Ms Dandy? Because Kaycee O'Malley is randy, aren't you dandy, dandy Ms Dandy?" He laughed at his rambling, but she just ignored him again. The sparkles in his eyes dimmed a little as he pouted at her. "You're a depressing drunk."

Hissing inside, because she missed her old self and how she used to be able to have fun, she snapped, "What makes you think I'm drunk, O'Malley?" She most probably was, considering that the O'Malley in her vision was currently cloning and the floor was starting to slant, but she was easy to rile up these days. Especially by people like him.

He leaned back a little at her force, holding up the hand with the bottle in mock surrender. "Okay. But one thing I _do_ know, though: you're pissed. Either in the drunk way or the angry way, up to you how you wanna take it."

She turned her face away again. She didn't want to be herself. She didn't used to be an old crone, stuck in a corner drinking away by herself, spitting fire at anyone who'd try to have fun with her. She didn't used to be like this. She used to be able to enjoy any party, regardless of who was there and what her situation outside the party was like. She watched Aggy, and she felt a pang in her heart – she and Aggy were so different now. Brianna'd never felt more alone.

She turned her face even more away from Kaycee, until her chin was almost touching her shoulder. She would not cry at this party, for fuck's sake. She'd been crying and crying and she was sick of all the tears. Please just let this _one_ party be tear-free, if not enjoyable.

Her face turned away, she didn't see Kaycee had sidled closer. His fingers reached out to touch one glossy black feather from her wings, and mesmerised by her costume, his fingers began to thread through the network of feathers as he gazed in wonder. When she turned to look at him, his fingers were still petting the part of her wing that he could reach. He ignored her, and she had the chance to study his face.

She could see what Rose Weasley, Alysha Zabini, all those other girls had seen in him. She herself had, after all, been a notch on his bedpost, much like he was on hers. Prick nature aside, O'Malley was pretty damn good looking. Even without the usual smirk on his face, he was handsome, with those cheekbones and the way his hair fell over his forehead and those eyes – eyes that were suddenly looking at her, as if he was studying her, too. She didn't look away.

He tilted his head a little, his forehead furrowing. "Why are you always sad, McLaggen?" She hadn't always been sad, he knew that, and she knew that _these days_ was implied in his question.

She thought she'd done a good job in hiding her emotions not only here, but ever since she came back to the UK, but obviously not. Of course, she knew she'd been pretty obvious when she'd first gotten back, but she thought that she'd done a pretty good job at this party – at least she wasn't crying, and she'd even managed a few laughs and smiles with Angus earlier on. Then again, this was Kaycee O'Malley, and he'd seen the old her at parties before, and she really was not that old person any more, was she? Anyone could see that.

She sighed and looked away from him again, this time her eyes landing on Angus. "You wouldn't understand," she answered, her lips set down in a grimace as she sought the fire of the alcohol again.

"Wouldn't I?" She turned to see him smirking at her lazily, arrogance and pride on his face. But she could see beyond that; she knew it was just a mask, because his eyes were hollow. She could see his pain. He took a swig of his own bottle, his face turning to look at the crowd. "What wouldn't I understand, Brianna?"

Her eyes followed his, and they landed on one red-headed seventh year Gryffindor girl, who was standing with a freshly graduated ex-Gryffindor boy. She knew then what he was talking about. She'd always known that her love story was hardly unique, she knew she wasn't the first who'd had fallen in love, been broken up with, and replaced. She'd been so caught up in her bubble that maybe she'd forgotten everyone else had feelings, too.

"You don't know what I've been through." Her voice was soft. She wasn't arguing, not any more, because although she was right that he probably wouldn't understand (considering that guys don't usually understand pregnancy), he was here and he wasn't shouting at her or hurting her and this was only her second decent conversation with a guy that didn't involve tears and pain. But she couldn't tell him her problems, because he was Kaycee O'Malley and he didn't do emotional things. Hell, she'd had the opportunity to talk to Angus Wood about it, and he was one of the nicest guys she'd ever known, but she couldn't do it.

She looked up to find his eyes back on her, studying her. He breathed out a little through parted lips. "No, I probably don't. But that doesn't necessarily mean I won't understand." It wasn't an invitation for her to open up, not really, because that really wasn't his gig. It was more a statement of fact: he was human, too.

Ever since Rose Weasley, he'd found a shred of his heart in his ribs and it'd been growing more and more because it was fed with thoughts of loneliness and longing and it'd grown so much that he could feel it pounding away there. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Kaycee O'Malley had a heart. Ever since he'd found out the depth of his feelings for the redhead, he'd been acting more of an arsehole in order to cover up his newly found weakness. He hated feeling vulnerable.

He looked into the eyes of the blonde angel in front of him, her irises wide in the dim light of their darkened corner. She looked so beautiful to him, although that could have been the alcohol talking. Her long hair hung in soft waves, and her lips looked full and soft. Really, she was the angel that she came dressed as, and Kaycee had a sudden urge for some goodness in his life. His date was the devil's wife, seduction and temptation personified, but some feeling in his gut wanted him to take this broken angel into his arms and just hold her until her black wings became white and she could take him into heaven with her.

Slowly, as if he was afraid of scaring her off, he reached a hand forwards and rested his palm on her cheek. Her eyes brightened at the contact, and he could tell she tensed, unsure, torn between fight or flight or staying. When she made no move after what he could swear was half a minute, he closed the gap between them and kissed her.

She didn't respond immediately, and when she did, it was hesitant, cautious. She wasn't sure she liked what was happening, he could tell. Deciding that he didn't really want to push it too far, too fast, he pulled away, looking into her eyes to try and gauge her reaction. It wasn't that he wanted to have a relationship with her, or that he liked her as much as he liked Weasley, or that he was just wanting a good lay. It just so happened that she was there and he was there and they were more alike than they'd each thought.

When neither of them had spoken after another half a minute, he finally whispered, "Brianna?"

Her fingers touched her lips, eyes still staring into his like a dear caught in the headlights. He could see the guilt, afraid of what others would think, having her heart locked away for someone else. She was scared. "I don't know." Her eyes blinked rapidly, breaking their little moment, and her face began to get animated, her hands flying to her hair and her lips and her face as she began to panic. "I don't know, I—I don't know what happened—"

He quickly put down his bottle on the floor and caught her arms, shushing her gently like he was shushing a child. "Brianna, calm down. Just... calm. Don't over think it, okay? It doesn't mean we're in love or we're going to be in a relationship or anything, okay? It was just the moment. Relax. Breathe in, breathe out."

She nodded, her eyes closing as she concentrated on her breathing. Kaycee noticed it was getting deeper and slower, and he began to think something was wrong until her eyes fluttered a little and she said softly, "I think I'm sleepy, Kaycee."

He smiled a little at the innocent voice coming from the fallen angel, before grabbing a cushion from a nearby sofa and laying it on the floor He watched as she gently wilted, her head landing on the pillow and her wings acting like her blanket. "Go to sleep, McLaggen." She nodded a little, a small soft smile on her face.

He thought about staying with her, but decided that might cause some people to think up theories and he _really_ didn't want them to. Even though it might hurt Weasley a bit more for him to date someone in her own year, he didn't think he could stand to hurt McLaggen, and she was bound to be hurt in some way if people thought they'd shagged or snogged or were dating. It was clear she didn't want to be in a relationship, and she wouldn't appreciate the rumours.

Heaving himself up, trying not to groan as his tired muscles complained, he made his goal the sofa where he'd hidden his stash of alcohol. Just as he'd taken one step in his desired direction, he heard her sigh something softly, sleepily, already lost in the world of dreams. He knew it wasn't meant for him, but it made his heart ache for a completely different reason.

"I love you."

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End file.
